Carry me
Far from sunsets and soon to be withered flowers
Away from phony conjured warmth
Flown under the guise of chocolate fondness.
Not near words inked in cards
Nor the suspense bred with the play  of ribbons upon coloured boxes
Away from births of new gifts inscribed    as care
Far from open sleighs with horses

Carry me
Far from white sands and the singing of its breeze
Far from holding hands with hearts held apart
Not near morning scents or the fall of the rain upon our clasped selves.
Far away from far
Carry me not
To candles lit on tables
Nor ring hidden in fine wine
Far away from bended knee.

Carry me
To the tip of your lips
I haven’t kissed
To the coarse of parts your soul keeps
Hold me with the rarest of touch your hands hide
Carry me
Beneath the  ugly your beauty seats upon
Take me to the distance I see mapped in your eyes
In the subtle of moments I too will carry you.

 (Courtesy of Hisia Zangu Poetry – 8th March 2015 session)

© Ogero Oscar (alias Gufy Poet)

COVER PHOTO: Dims Photography

About Author

A performing Poet|43rd Slam Africa poetry King|writer|Photographer | Founder: #UpgradePoetry



    In the eulogized and buried light of the late night, a poet’s magical pen illuminates the night,
    Listening raptly to the echo of his thoughts, the poet uncages his spirit and dances with the words.

    OH! Forgive my etiquette,
    It’s not within me to fail in pleasantries,
    I am a poet, TAZRYNE,
    I write poetry to feed the arty ogre in me,
    Take away my pen, and watch me drift off to an abyss of confusion like a hollow trunk.

    Ear the strokes of the writer within me,
    As I carve to write the unwritten stories of my life, though each story has some similarities to the other that may have been written a way back,
    But each story also has the uniqueness of its own kind, where life teaches me and I learn too.

    See how I speak out my heart,
    Dipping each word into the ink of love, pain and pleasure.

    The more I reveal myself, I become closer to myself,
    The more I dive into the darkness of my reality, all my unrealistic beliefs vanish.

    Such a night, never ends,
    Such a night, is dark and full of terrors,
    Such a night, I walk through the pages of history,
    Such a night, very slowly, I flip through the pages of history like they were brittle and they would shatter.

    I have my magical pen between my fingers,
    See how lovingly they walk around the papers,
    Like lovers on the seashore ambled in the darkness of night.

    I dream of voices,
    Ghosts in my dreams make it hard to sleep a wink,
    Bad notions in my head, notions that don’t need company, evil notions that break free,
    Fierce with emotions, I am urged to share the pains and pleasures of my life.

    My lamentation cannot be heard but can only be read through these words,
    This pen has become my tongue and the words are voice of me.

    After a while now, grass is slowly growing in the footprints that her departure left behind,
    Apologies, I lost you,
    Back in time I travel you.

    At a time, I wooed a goddess, with the confident dash of a cavalry officer,
    Standing to my full length, chin thrust defiantly in the air, I muttered,
    She was a golden rose growing strong in my field, I would lay siege to her heart and mine would be at peace,
    A refined quality of gracefulness and good taste was she, conveying an aura of elegance and gentility, she did.

    Her sense of humor yet to be rivaled,
    She was the queen of hyperbole and ridiculous imagery,
    I would often laugh at her quips and heavily garnished yarns,
    Her stories had me supporting my chin on my hand, leaning closer, our noses almost touching, listening to her soft talks, so soft like a falling feather, as she laid it down for me, brick by brick,
    She ruled my kingdom,
    She was a goddess sent to torture me with love,
    My heart always burning with love.

    I held keys to her tomorrow? Or thought so!

    Then she shattered me like a sand statue hit by a wave and relegated me to be her escort man accompanying her to her Mr. Right.

    Her Mr. Right, a master of coin, time revealed,
    The few pennies in my torn pockets not adequate to electrify,
    The contents of a man’s heart are less valuable than the contents of his purse in this game of hearts.

    Unsullied affection is less grand to me now, a resolve made to shelter self from spiders in the garden of love, until I grow strong to hop along,
    It’s a symbolic revenge of sorts, to them who may wish to hold my heart.

    I have been unwearied in wait, disdaining love and all its agents, but now the Lord has smiled upon me,
    I asked Him for a favor and He responded as He willed,
    He has gifted me a love that I wish to multiply a thousand fold, and equal to challenge I am.
    Full of hopes to kiss away the shadow of bachelorhood.

  2. Magunga, many apologies for the post above. I didn’t intend to leave that there. Anywho, I habitually read your great articles. I also cast my vote in your favor. March on JAKOM!

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